


Love Out Loud

by ALovelyLitwit



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Oblivious Alex, Pining, slight sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25113409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALovelyLitwit/pseuds/ALovelyLitwit
Summary: Michael is sitting next to Alex. He's very, very distracted.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 26
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> LET MICHAEL WORSHIP AT THE FEET OF ALEX MANES, YOU COWARDS.

Michael Guerin is distracted. He’s supposed to be working on a new piece of alien tech to keep Mr. Jones restrained outside of the turquoise mines. But Alex is sitting no less than a foot to his left and it’s all Michael can do not to make those twelve inches disappear.

Alex is on vacation. A leave of absence after his father’s death. Bereavement. He hasn’t taken a single day off since joining the Air Force unless you count the time his leg got blown off or that other time his father and his brother abducted him.

Holiday Alex is a wonder to behold. He’s gone several days without shaving. Michael wonders what the overgrown scuff would feel like against his skin. The thought is overwhelming and makes him squirm in his seat. Alex is completely fucking oblivious.

The Project Shepard base had been permanently shut down after Jesse died. So, Alex has moved everything into Michael’s bunker. Which had seemed like the obvious solution at the time, but now Michael realizes new and unexpected problems have arisen. Like the way Alex smells.

Also, his hands. They are beautiful. Even just flicking back and forth through the Caulfield documents and old newspapers trying to find mention of a Mr. Jones. Sometimes, Alex reaches out and touches Michael’s arm, wanting him to read something he’s found. Michael stops breathing every time.

Currently, things are in crisis. Alex is leaning forward on his stool and his t-shirt has ridden up in the back. The merest slice of olive skin is on full display and Michael’s heart is racing. He worries he might actually start drooling. Drawing his eyes away, he pinches the tender skin on the underside of his forearm and tries to refocus on his work.

Because the thing is, Alex is seeing Forrest. Casually – that’s the word Alex had used and the word Michael recites daily like a prayer. Casually means not serious. Casually means off and on. Casually means not forever. It implies a lack of feeling, a lack of investment. But it also implies sex. Sex with someone who is not him. The thought haunts Michael.

Don’t worry; he knows he’s a hypocrite.

For a time, he manages to focus pretty well. There’s a brief moment of panic when Alex has to bend over and retrieve his pencil. Michael recovers quickly. Until the unthinkable happens and Alex slides his stool as close to Michael as possible. ‘Hey, take a look at this. I think Mr. Jones might have gotten captured for a time.’

Michael hears Alex’s voice distantly in some far-off land, but the blood rushing through his body is entirely preoccupied with how Alex’s entire jean-clad thigh is pressed against his own. He swallows and stares at where their bodies meet, burning from hip to knee. He cannot for the life of him recall what Alex asked only two seconds ago. Lord help him.

Something must be wrong with him. He’s spent the past year barely thinking about Alex. Sure, there’s been the occasional dream. And there’s been a few times he’s picked up the phone to call him. Once he drove to his house and even knocked on the door. A time or two he’s jerked off to the thought of Alex’s mouth wrapped around his cock, but that’s perfectly normal. Right?

Wrong.

Everything he’s told himself concerning Alex for the past year is just so many lies. Alex is always the most attractive person Michael’s ever met and sex is always on the table even when it’s not. Maybe even especially when it’s not. Like right now with his criminal fucking thigh.

A memory surfaces. Of Alex home from leave after his second tour. Michael swears he won’t go to him. Will sit in the airstream all by himself no matter how long it takes for Alex to be gone again. But then. A knock at the door. Those sparkling hazel eyes. The freckles scattered across his cheeks. That sweet fucking mouth. Clothes thrown everywhere. Alex spreading Michael’s legs with that same villainous thigh.

Jesus fuck. Michael is in trouble.

Alex is calling his name, shaking his shoulder, concern evident in his voice. Michael tears his eyes away from where their thighs touch and looks up at him. He knows he must look slightly unhinged – eyes heavy-lidded, chest heaving, mouth parted wantonly. But Alex doesn’t seem to notice the sex of it all. ‘What’s wrong?’

Michael swallows several times and clears his throat. ‘Um, nothing. What’s up?’

It’s the best his brain can manage.

Alex is not buying what he’s selling. And before he can stop him, Alex’s hand is on Michael’s thigh, his thumb rubbing back and forth in soothing circles doing the absolute most but not soothing a goddamn thing. ‘You’re sweating. What’s wrong? Should I call Kyle?’

Michael is on the verge of doing something ruinous. He is teetering on the very dangerous ledge of want, need, desire. And love. In utter desperation, he stumbles backwards off his stool and ends up on his ass. When Alex kneels beside him in a panic, Michael scoots as far away from him as possible. ‘Stop, Alex. Please.’

They sit there for several long moments. Alex in total confusion. Michael willing his cock to go back to sleep. This cannot go on. Eventually, Michael stands up and moves his stool to another table. Alex watches as he gathers all his various tools and moves them to the other table. He plops back down on his seat, his back turned to Alex’s innocently filthy presence, and resumes his work like nothing happened.

He hears Alex shuffle around. Hears him head to the ladder. ‘I’ll work at home. Didn’t know I was bothering you.’ His voice filled with hurt.

Michael sighs and turns to him. ‘No, Alex, please don’t go.’ Alex pauses but doesn’t turn around, hand still clasping the ladder. ‘You aren’t bothering me. I swear.’ This time Alex does turn back to him. Michael hates the way his eyebrows furrow at him accusingly. When was the last time he’d made Alex smile? He can’t remember. It’s a damning realization.

Taking a deep breath, he gets up and approaches Alex slowly. He wants to buy some time – work out what to say in his brain. Unfortunately, the bunker is not that big and not 30 seconds go by before he’s as close to Alex as he dares. Michael wants to open his mouth and say ‘I love you’. He wants to say ‘stay with me, forever’. But what he does say is ‘I’m sorry’. It’s barely a whisper.

‘Sorry?’

‘Yeah. Sorry that you believe you could ever bother me. That I’ve somehow made you believe that.’ Michael grabs the strap of Alex’s cross-body bag and pulls it back over his head. ‘Stay. I’ll go grab us some lunch. We can talk. I want to talk.’ A distant memory echoes between them. He steps back, clutching Alex’s bag to his chest, and waits for his answer.

‘I’d like that.’ Alex returns to his seat and Michael releases his breath. He smiles to himself and thinks about what a relief it will be to finally love Alex out loud.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael returns. They talk.

Michael drops the food in Alex’s lap. ‘Arturo and Rosa say hello.’ He grabs his stool from the other table and brings it back to sit across from Alex. A healthy, mature distance. But still close enough to see ink smudged across his cheek. Michael’s fingers twitch. And so, it begins again.

For a while, they eat in amicable silence. Michael doesn’t allow himself to look across the table. He focuses on his cheeseburger and fries. Not looking up. Not even once. He considers what he’s going to say when the talk finally happens. They’ve tried talking before, of course, but it has always ended in yelling or fucking. That thought leads him to images of Alex stripped naked across the very table he’s trying to eat off of and, well, he chokes on a fry.

‘You okay?’ Michael finally dares a glance across the table. Alex is doing Alex things like sucking on his straw, which is not at all the sexiest thing Michael’s ever seen. He coughs some more.

‘I’m fine. Fine. Excellent. The thing is, Alex, you’re very distracting.’ Michael takes several gulps of soda.

Alex looks at him, clearly frustrated. ‘I told you I’d go home. I don’t want to be a distraction. Maybe this was a bad idea. You clearly don’t want me here.’

Michael takes several more gulps of soda. ‘I meant, sexually. You are sexually distracting.’ He looks at the floor. Maybe a wormhole will suddenly appear to save him.

No such luck.

‘Sexually?’ Michael risks a peek. Alex’s eyes are wide, his mouth open in surprise. He’s so fucking hot. Michael shuts his eyes and thinks of Wyatt Long, cold showers, dead puppies. Whatever it takes. When Michael reopens his eyes, Alex is smirking at him. He calmly eats another fry and licks the salt off his fingers slowly. Using that perfect wet, pink tongue he knows so well. Michael prays for death.

And then Alex laughs. Like really laughs – full-bodied, head thrown back, tears in his eyes. The greatest sound on Earth. Michael doesn’t care if it’s at his expense. He’d literally do anything to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

‘I love you.’ Alex’s laughter dies. Michael wonders who said that out loud. Several long beats pass and then heart break.

‘No, Michael. You haven’t loved me in a long, long time.’ A sadness has etched itself across Alex’s face.

Michael hates it; hates that it’s all his fault. He gets up and drags his stool around to sit next to Alex. Right back where he started, where he belongs. He grabs Alex’s hand. ‘I have loved you every single day for the past 11 years. I loved you yesterday. I love you today. And I will love you tomorrow.’

He watches as Alex angrily palms away tears from his eyes. ‘Then why did you spend an entire year rejecting me at every turn? Why did you date my best friend? Why did you walk out when I was so very fucking obviously singing you a goddamn love song?’

Michael watches Alex put space between them. Watches him walk away, back turned, shoulders heaving. Watches his fists clench and unclench. Watches the way his heart breaks.

In the past, one of them would have left now. Probably Alex. But Michael would be lying if he said he hadn’t done his fair share of leaving. Sometimes space is important – to calm down volatile situations, to come back with cooler heads. The problem was, though, that they both walked away and buried whatever pain they were feeling deep down in a pit of shame and trauma. Their hearts calloused; their defenses fortified.

But not this time.

Michael moves towards Alex, lines himself up against his back. He reaches out with his hands and lightly grips his hips, feels Alex flinch at first – so he stops, waits. Feels him relax and then continues wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling Alex flush against him. Michael buries his nose in Alex’s hair, just behind his ear, and inhales. ‘I’m so sorry, Alex. I was scared. I was tired. I was broken. And there was all that stuff between our families. Generations of hate and torture. I didn’t want to face any of it. Wanted to bury my head in the sand and just breath easy for a while. I thought dating Maria would fix me. Instead, I hurt you. I hurt Maria. But mostly, I hurt myself.’

Alex turns to face him. Michael doesn’t remove his arms, tugs him closer so their hearts can beat against each other’s chests. Alex returns the hug and they stand like that for a minute, maybe hours, possibly forever.

Eventually, Alex pulls back. ‘I’m sorry, too. For every time I looked away. For every time I left. For never asking what you needed, what you wanted. For never asking for what I needed, what I wanted. I love you, Michael. You are what I need, what I want. What do you want?’

Michael answers immediately. ‘Honestly, Alex, I desperately want to fuck you.’

And just like that, Alex is laughing again. Even harder than last time. Michael watches with dopey heart-eyes but does not intend to back down. ‘I mean, listen. Sure, sure. I want you, need you, too. Blah, blah, blah. But I have been forced to sit next to your pretty ass in this confined space for a week now and if you don’t suck my cock sometime soon, I will self-destruct.’

Alex smiles at him affectionately and moves past him to start collecting his things. ‘You do remember Forrest exists, right?’

‘You said y’all were just casual. Doesn’t that imply not exclusive? Open to sex with other people? Let me be the other people, Alex.’ Michael tries to wrangle Alex’s bag away from him, but Alex has been to war and shit, so he wins. He tries another tactic. ‘I love you, remember?’ It’s a desperate low. He hopes it works.

‘I love you, too. But I really like Forrest and even if we’re not exclusive that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable sleeping around with my ex while he’s back at my house watching Netflix.’ Alex throws his bag across his shoulder.

‘I don’t want to be your ex anymore.’ Michael continues to pout. Alex is unmoved.

‘I don’t want you to be my ex anymore, either. Listen, Forrest is moving to Austin next month. I’m going to see this thing through with him. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now with Mr. Jones, anyway. We will reconvene in a few weeks.’

He moves to leave, but Michael grabs his hand and pulls him back. ‘Reconvene? You sound like an Air Force Captain.’ Alex gives him an exasperated eyebrow quirk. ‘And so, when we reconvene, I can come home? For good this time?’

Alex’s face goes soft. He leans over and kisses Michael gently on the forehead. ‘And then you can come home. For good this time.’

And that’s all Michael has ever wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Cross-posted @ litwitlady on Tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Cross-posted on Tumblr @litwitlady.


End file.
